


It's Okay

by MinaGlasse



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Feels, Fluff, Healing, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaGlasse/pseuds/MinaGlasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in a long time, they lie back and just let themselves breathe. They've been through hardships and trauma that no one should ever have to endure, but it's okay, because they've managed to find a safe space in one another. (Rated T for now, but it might change if I decide to write more.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Okay

* * *

_Inspiration for this chapter brought to you by..._

_Heisterkamp: "Kein trauriges Lied"_

* * *

 

Plenty of myths and legends and love stories end with a final reunion in the afterlife. I can't say how many, but the assumption seems accurate enough for me.

This scene kind of feels that way. Even though we're not dead and I don't feel much like a hero or a legend of any kind, I still feel like I've just walked away from the final act of a play: case closed, epic story over, nothing left but to walk into the light and be happy… at least until the next power-hungry megalomaniac decides to come stomping in.

It's just that the  _happy_  part is all I want, now. Experience has taught me that my post-disaster exhaustion is no more an excuse to ignore potential happiness than my physical disability had been, all that time ago. I passed up on it when I told her not to come with me to the South Pole… but this time, I want to go for it, and I want it to count, to  _matter_.

When I was seventeen, I had the nerve to tell Mako, to his face, that he liked me and was just in denial. Emotions, even a feeling as complicated as love, could be faced down and shot straight. I was seventeen, untried, carefree in a big new world, confident, brash. I was a lot of things… not that I think any of it was bad. I'm just different now: older, a little more worn. I've learned a lot in a very short span of time, I've been through a lot.

There were many reasons why Mako and I didn't work out and never would, but my rough touch certainly played a part. I learned my lesson.

Brutal honesty isn't a bad thing, but it also isn't the only way to show someone you care. Let them see you when you're afraid. Let them see you when you're broken. It says:  _I trust you enough to be at your mercy_. I had to learn this. I never trusted Mako with that, not even when I really, really wanted to, though neither of us was at fault for it. It just wasn't in the cards.

Asami's hair is tickling my nose, but I won't move her, not just now. This is a test just as much as it is a dare: a test to see if it's okay to touch each other, and a dare to believe that this really could turn into  _us against the world_.

When I was twenty, I wrote her a letter. Suddenly there was a lot that I wanted to say, but couldn't. There were no tough words and no false bravado to push me headlong into another clumsy infatuation. No, I had my skin and bones and broken spirit and two long years of silence to explain away, all of it confined to what I could scratch out on a sheet of paper.

I pretty much brawled my way into Mako's heart. Well, Asami pretty much danced her way into mine. It was slow. It took its time. I let her see me at my worst. She supported me, took care of me, and even when I went back to the South Pole to fall into my own personal pit of misery and frustration, she still wrote me, still thought of me.

She never had an ulterior motive, never demanded anything or resented me. She was just lovely, and  _kind_ , and gave me a safe and warm space in my mind where I could feel  _okay_ , shortcomings and all, and just fall in love with her.

I don't know how she does it. I really, honestly don't know. You'd figure a person could only endure so much heartbreak before it left them feeling cold or dead inside. I'd bet anything that it's buried in there somewhere—abandonment issues, questions of self-worth, who knows what else—canned up in a deep and dark place she'd rather not visit. Love has betrayed her so many times that I don't know how she can still get out of bed in the morning.

I think I'll tell her, someday, that she was a big source of inspiration for me during the worst days of my recovery.

For now, though, we'll lay here in the Spirit World and let ourselves breathe for the first time in a very long time. We'll be broken up and messed up together, and that's okay, because we'll mend together, too. I'm not sure if I have the same strength of character that she does, but I'm going to do everything I can to show her how badly I'm willing to try.

But what's beautiful about this is that, really, I don't have anything to prove here. Despite everything, she's never doubted me, not once, not even when I couldn't walk or bend or take care of myself. She doesn't have to tell me that she loves me enough to try opening herself up just one more time.

And she's not here with me now because I'm finally broken enough for her. I'm not here with her now because she's finally broken enough for me. We're here because it's safe, and because she's taught me that love is patient while I've taught her that love is still worth reaching for.

It's not a responsibility, it's not a battle of wills, it can't be forced. I don't love her because I feel like I'm obligated. I love her because she makes me feel  _young_  in all the ways someone my age ought to feel.

We also won't lay here and decide who drew the shorter straw at birth. She's an heiress and a genius, sure, but she's also an orphan now that her father—the same man who'd disowned her and tried to kill her—was crushed to death right in front of her. I'm the Avatar, sure, but I'm also a human being whose choices and mistakes affect millions of people I'll never meet… and I've made many mistakes. I could go on and on about either of us, but it's not worth it. We know.

We'll just be  _here_ , and it's  _okay_ , and I'm not too dumb or proud to see this as anything less than a miracle. I'm in a place in my head that I'd never thought I'd reach again, only this time I've come to it with a much better idea of just how precious it is, how delicate and special. I just want to feel  _okay_  and do this right.

I want her to feel like she can fall apart on top of me if she wants to, because I'm safe, because I'm warm and  _here_  and I really do love her and she really is worthy of being loved.

I haven't told her this, not with words, not yet, but I will when I know she's ready to hear it and when I'm ready to say it. That time isn't now, not while everything is still so  _fresh_ , and that's okay. Love is patient. Love is respectful and undemanding. It took some time and a lot of hardship, but I've learned.

Love is letting her pretty hair tickle my nose because holding her like this is so worth it, and because this is the furthest we've gone yet because we're still young and still nervous, in spite of everything, and I just really want to touch her.

It's old and it's new, and it's amazing, and no part of it really needs to be said because we both see it for what it is. We're safe and this feeling is mutual and it's real, and my heart's beating faster and she's breathing more quickly than normal, and it's so much more than okay.

"Can I ask what you're thinking about?" Her voice isn't timid, but it is quiet, private.

Where could I start? "Everything," is all I can really say, but it's enough for her. She hums a little and pulls one of my hands into one of her own, tracing my fingers and palm. I lick my lips. "Is it alright if I touch your hair? I've always… kind of wondered what it feels like."

A soft laugh. "Of course you can."

It's soft like I thought it would be. My fingers tangle in the part where it curls at the ends, but not so much that I'm forced to stop. "You're so…" I trail off. She's probably been called beautiful a million times before now.

"I'll believe it if it's you who says it."

So… there are times when she doesn't believe it? I push the thought down for now, though, since I know we'll probably return to that topic when we're ready.

"You're beautiful, Asami." It doesn't feel like a big enough word. I want to cram every last speck of respect and protectiveness and admiration that I feel for her into it, but it doesn't fit. There's too much. So I try again, but honestly, I know this effort will probably take a lifetime, sappy as it sounds: "You're…" I let out a short, breathy little laugh, "Well you're just kind of everything, all at once."

"So I take it you were thinking about me, just now? You did just say you were thinking about  _everything_." I can't see her face, but there's a peace in her voice that I haven't heard in a long time, and it's reassuring. It's that hint I need, the one that tells me that she feels as safe with me as I do with her.

"You caught me." My tone is as light as I feel. Her hair is soft and silky and the grass under my back is plush and comfortable, and this feels good and right and I don't think I'm as afraid of the future as I was before.

"I was thinking of you, too," she admits. "Are you…" She presses a little harder and buries her face against me just a bit more. "Is this… okay?"

I take her hand, the one that's still tracing idle shapes into my palm. "Yeah." I press her knuckles against my cheek, but I don't try to kiss them. Like everything else between us, that part will come in time. "Yeah it… really is."

 

* * *

 

_Author's Note:_

 

_INTERNET PLEASE ACCEPT THIS GIFT OF THE FEELS THAT I CAN'T STOP HAVING._

_This chapter was inspired by the song "Kein trauriges Lied," by Heisterkamp. It's in German, but the lyrics are really beautiful and kinda sorta give me the warm fuzzies. I've posted my own translation of the song on my Tumblr page if you're interested. Just go to:_

_whatfantasy.tumblr.com_


End file.
